Damaged
by Paranoia Theory
Summary: When John is finishing up a case in Avery, New York, he learns of the disappearance of his late sister's husband and son, Michael and Alex Fallon. But he learns he has a niece, Ginny, and she may know something about the Fallon deaths John doesn't know.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **As he is finishing up a case in the remote town, Avery, New York, John hears about the disappearance of his late sister's husband, and his own son, Alexander. But when he learns that he had a five-year-old niece, Genevieve Fallon, things get far more complicated when Ginny meets John, and twelve-year-old Sam, and sixteen-year-old Dean, and it turns out the disappearance of her father and twin brother was not an accident.

Rated T

Sort of AU, because of the outcome of this story, and I guess it might be WeeChesters, though the story is mostly John, at least in the beginning.

* * *

**Damaged**

**Prologue:**

* * *

Was it her imagination, or was Genevieve Fallon's home really burning down before her very eyes? She was only five-years-old, but she knew very well that this was no dream. It was all far too intense, and way to vivid. The heat was burning her alive, and the smoke was choking her, turning her breath into rasping gasps for air. Her skin was grimy with sweat and ash, and she was already lying on the floor, suffocating on the thick smoke.

She was alone, crying silently on the floor underneath her bed, while the fire burned away at everything in her room—her few toys and books, the closet of secondhand clothing, and her brother's bed, just on the far wall. Alex was gone, too. Ginny hadn't seen him since she had woken up to the smoke alarm in the hallway blaring. All she had seen was his bed, with the covers flung back and his favorite brown bear gone. Now Ginny was cowering on the hard, hot wooden floor, clutching a stuffed dog she had dubbed Snowy as an even littler girl. She could see the flames in her room, rippling across the walls and swooping out the single, shattered window. The floor was begin to creak as flames swept across it—within minutes, the floor would collapse, just like the stairs.

Ginny covered her mouth with her hands, tears sliding down her face silently now. Her throat was too hoarse to cry or scream anymore. She just wanted help. Would anyone ever save her?

The floors creaked again, and Ginny felt something lurch underneath her—the foundation. A scream attempted to jump out of her throat, but it was caught behind a fit of raging coughs.

"Daddy!" Ginny cried, clutching tighter at Snowy, the dog's floppy, dirty ears rubbing against her sweaty face. "ALEX!" Another heavy groan above the roar of flame, and Ginny forced herself to scream—

Without warning, there was a crash, and Ginny cowered underneath the bed, mouth wide open in a silent scream as she clutched at Snowy, terrified to even move as something heavy thudded against the flaming floor.

"Hello?" A deep voice shouted, "Hello?!" Ginny raised her head. Out of the very corner of her eye, near the window, she could see heavy, shiny looking black boots.

"Is anyone here?" The voice called, then more loudly, "GINNY?"

Ginny let out a whimper, and shuffled across the floor in her long white nightgown, her hot, dirty feet, struggling to keep from touching the searing wood. Again, the floor creaked as Ginny tried to crawl towards the edge of the bed to see who had come, just as a gloved hand reached under the bed, and the black boots vanished as a face in a black mask appeared.

"Ginny?" The voice beyond the mask asked. A black glove reached for her arm, gently pulling her forward. Ginny was paralyzed, unable to move as the faceless mask nodded. Ginny heard the floor creak again, and acting on sheer instinct, she scrambled forward, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around her in a tight brace as Ginny gathered her voice and sobbed into the dirty, hard yellow and black coat.

"It's OK, it's OK." The fireman said reassuringly, keeping strong arms around her as he stood up, and hurried back towards the window, and the floor creaked underneath them. Ginny raised her head just enough to see the rails of a ladder had been pulled up to the window.

The fireman shifted slightly, getting ready to scale down the ladder again as the flames roared higher, threatening to burn away the top of Ginny's exposed head.

"Just a minute, kid," The fireman rasped, "You'll be safe in a minute, I promise."

But he never got a chance. For just as he leaned over to begin the long journey down the ladder, there was a loud splintering sound, followed by a dreadful groan.

"Holy shit—" The man swore, just as Ginny let out a dreadful scream, and the floor fell out from under them as they fell into darkness below.

The man let go of Ginny midway through the fall. As they hurtled downward, Ginny had little more on her mind than the sheer terror—she was going to die, hot, alone, and scared in this fire. Not even the fireman could save her.

Her body slammed into the second floor with a loud thud, just a few feet away from the fireman's. There was a sickening crack, and he didn't move when he hit the floor. Ginny didn't try to move—the fire wasn't as bad on the second floor yet. But the smoke was just as awful, automatically choking her lungs.

For a moment, Ginny lie on the new, slightly hotter floor, not trying to move. Her arm was a fiery stretch of pain—she knew she wouldn't be able to move it if she tried. The fireman lying next to her didn't move either—his chest wouldn't even rise to take breath. Ginny knew he was dead, just like she would soon be.

Ginny heard a few footsteps over the quaking floor. She looked up towards the doorway, and saw the door had been knocked off its hinges. She was lying in her father's bedroom, she realized, on the polished wooden floor, just a few inches away from the bed.

"Daddy?" Ginny cried again, weaker than ever. She clutched at Snowy, who had magnificently survived the fall. "Daddy?!"

"Not Daddy," Said an icy voice. Ginny looked up to see a deathly pale woman standing in the doorway, her dangerously beautiful face silhouetted against the flames, "Lucia."

The woman was tall and slender, wearing jeans and a short, blood red shirt underneath a black leather jacket. She was ashen, an ivory pale, with long, straight black hair, and almond eyes. Her crimson lips smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.

Lucia smiled at Ginny, "Hello." She said, "Sorry to meet in such horrible circumstances, but…" Her eyes went wide, flashing a whole, deep, terrifying charcoal black, "But I really do need to talk to you, Ginny."

Ginny opened her mouth in a silent, awestruck scream as the woman stepped forward with an unbreakable speed, her slim, strong fingers wrapping securely around Ginny's throat and hoisting her into the air.

"Abominations aren't tolerated, especially not your kind." Lucia hissed, her eyes still the horrible black as Ginny choked and sputtered, Snowy falling from her hands and sliding underneath her father's empty bed.

"So…goodbye, Genevieve." Lucia's head cocked sickeningly as she watched the little girl die, the life spinning out of her eyes.

"N-no." Ginny gasped, fingers scrabbling as her vision began to go blurry.

Lucia smiled, "Sorry?" She asked, tightening her grip on Ginny's throat.

"N-no." Ginny rasped, kicking a few times, and then, much, much louder in a sudden bout of adrenaline, "NO!"

There was a blast of energy, and Lucia screamed, her eyes flashing back to their crystal blue as she flew away from Ginny, who fell to the ground. She grabbed Snowy with her good hand, the other dangling limply and screaming with pain.

Lucia's body slammed into the wall with a loud crash, knocking down a picture of a woman with long, curling blonde hair, which shattered as it cracked over Lucia's head.

Ginny ran for the nearest window, the one on the other side of her father's bed. It was a tall, spotless window with a perfect view of the woods outside the house. Ginny flung herself forward, body sailing, and the glass shattered and screamed as Ginny flew forward, soaring towards the earth. It was a twenty foot drop to the ground, and she wouldn't remember hitting the earth when she woke up.

* * *

Well, I'm not sure if anyone will really like it or not, but I figured it couldn't hurt to try. I used to do a little Fanfiction, but I figured I'd take a crack at this. Review and let me know what you think, and I'll try and post another chapter sometime soon.

* * *


	2. Avery, New York

* * *

**Damaged**

**Chapter 1**

**Avery, New York**

* * *

John Winchester drove steadily down the relatively empty highway to Avery, New York. He could have driven faster—he hadn't seen another car in at least half an hour, so he easily could have been speeding right now, except he wasn't sure how smart that was, as it was pouring down rain, and it was already hard to concentrate with the news.

His sister was dead. The words seemed foreign and unbelievable in John's mind, but he knew it was right. He hadn't heard from his little sister, Lydia, in over six years, but still…

With Mary's death, a relationship that had once been close enough to send Christmas cards over every holiday season had declined seriously. John had lost contact with everyone, including his last remaining family, his little sister Lydia. He knew he should have tried to contact her before—the last he had seen of her was a picture in a newspaper in Ohio—the announcement of her recent wedding to a Michael Fallon. That was six years ago, and in that time, he hadn't had much time to think of her.

Lydia had meant well whenever she had contacted John, in the first few years after Mary's death. She had tried to help him and his boys—she had even relatively believed his story about the suspicions behind Mary's death. Then again, Lydia had always been religious—in the Catholic religion, demons were real. What else had Christ been around to exorcise? But ghosts, werewolves, clowns that ate people? Lydia had drawn the line, and been on the edge of calling in mental help for John. That was around the time when John had severed all contact with his sister. He hadn't seen her since, and he never would again, because Lydia Winchester Fallon was dead.

She had been dead for over five years, and John had never known. She had died in childbirth, giving birth to her and Michael's twins: Genevieve Marie Fallon and Michael Alexander Fallon, Jr. Her twins had survived, and until a few weeks ago, they had been living with their father in his old house at the outskirts of a small town Avery, New York.

It had been so sudden, learning everything. One of Sam's teachers had family in Avery. She had even known Lydia before her death, she said. Mrs. Elizabeth Banner. The teacher's name had been Mrs. Banner.

Mrs. Banner had known about Lydia's death for years, but until she had had Sam in her class, she hadn't thought a thing about it. Then Sam was in her class, with the same last name as Lydia's maiden name (Mrs. Banner and Lydia had known each other long enough to share family histories), and after returning from Christmas break with word of the death of Lydia's husband and son, the story had spilled out to John.

The teacher hadn't even known they were related until the story slipped out during a parent-teacher conference, one of the few John had managed to attend. She had been forced to reveal the death of his estranged sister, and more so, the recent fire that had killed her husband and five-year-old son, Alex. Only the daughter, Ginny Fallon, had survived.

It had taken awhile for John to decide to come to Avery. Only when he was sure that the Lydia Mrs. Banner knew was _his _sister had he come, more to be sure it was Lydia, and not someone else. Still. The idea of a niece was definitely new. Mrs. Banner admitted she knew nothing about the condition of the little girl, but perhaps he could find out. He doubted he would speak to her. He just wanted to get the hospital, confirm a death certificate on Lydia, Michael, and little Alex, and leave.

While Sam was currently sleeping in the back of the car, Dean was occupied with his sixteenth birthday present, which he had only received a week ago. A brand new walkman, top of the line. It even played tapes, for when John was out of town with the car, so Dean could have a bit of the mullet rock with him while his father was gone.

About a mile ahead, John thought he could see lights. That had to be Avery. It was the only town out this far in northern New York that John had seen on the map, a few towns back. He braced the wheel of the Impala, flexing his fingers a few times to gain some feeling in them again, and accelerated.

* * *

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Sam?" John glanced back at his younger son, looking away from the small town Main Street of Avery, New York. The town really was small. At the very front it was made up of a church, a few old, seldom-entered antique shops, and a grocery store. The stores were all made up of wood with peeling paint and windows that were fogged and dusty, or cracked and put back together with duck tape. A few shady looking apartments lined up behind the stores, with a relatively cheap motel next door to the church.

"How come you never told us about Aunt Linda?" Sam asked, leaning against the door to the backseat of the Impala.

"Lydia," John corrected, "Her name was Lydia. And I hadn't seen her in awhile Sam."

"Why not?" Sam piped up, now sitting up a little.

John forced a heavy sigh, taking a left turn at the one light in town, onto Greyson street. At the end, he could just see a tall, white three story building. The hospital (the only one in town, it appeared) was also the one occupied by Ginny Fallon, according to the waitress at the diner John had stopped in a few minutes ago, to grab a quick dinner for his boys before they went to the hospital, then stopped in a motel for the night.

"Lydia and I didn't exactly see eye-to-eye," John said carefully, picking out every word to make sure he didn't say the wrong thing, "She didn't really understand…"

"Hunting?" Sam offered, "She didn't believe in ghosts, did she?"

"Not just that," John said flatly, pulling smoothly into the hospital parking lot. It was small, but still relatively empty except for the few reserved parking spots. John pulled in towards the front of the lot, and grabbed a badge for Social Services he had printed out a few months ago. Thank God for Kinko's, he thought, clipping the badge to the front of his shirt. He didn't have time to get to a motel and a change, but hopefully he could pass off anyway. Besides, he didn't think he'd be around more than once or twice.

"You guys hang tight here," John said as he got out of the car.

"Do we have to?" Sam groaned, "I'm tired of sitting in the car."

"Just a while, kid." John promised, "Tell you what," He tossed the keys at Dean, who caught them with a look of faint surprise on his face, "Dean, there's a credit card in the glove compartment. Go check us into a room and get some dinner for you and Sam. I'll call you when I need to get picked up, okay?"

"Sure," Dean said, still looking faintly surprised, but nevertheless, he hurried out of the car, trying to look calm and cool, and jumped into the driver's seat. Sam crawled over the back of the front seat and landed in the passenger seat.

"Be careful with the car," John said automatically as Dean pushed the keys into the ignition.

"Yessir," Dean said, still trying to hide his euphoria at getting to drive. John watched and waited as Dean backed up with ease, and drove out of the parking lot. Dean would be fine, John reminded himself, He was a good, smart kid. He could handle a car and credit car for a few hours.

* * *

"Social Services?" The nurse repeated, looking skeptical. "Why would Social Services need to see the death certificate of a woman that died in childbirth?"

"We're just patching some things up on a case with a kid in the ward upstairs." John said emotionlessly, "Lydia Fallon? Her kid's upstairs."

The woman's expression blanked slightly, "The Fallon girl?"

John raised an eyebrow, "I take it you know about her, then."

"Everyone knows about the fire at the Fallon place," The nurse said matter-of-factly. It was then that John noticed her nametag said 'Nancy' in capital bronze letters. She had thick, curly red-brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and was wearing purple scrubs. She wasn't wearing much make up, but she was still a relatively attractive woman, probably mid-thirties or so.

"Ginny's been here nearly a week now," Nancy went on, "I work up in the pediatric ward sometimes, when I need the extra money. It's the sweetest little girl, but God, it's horrible what's happened to her."

John leaned forward a little, silently cursing himself. Dammit, he hadn't meant to let the girl get involved. He was just here to get proof about Lydia, and move on. _Not _learn about his possible niece.

"What exactly happened?" John asked, "I haven't read her file yet," He lied.

"Well, it's all over town." Nancy said, "Like you know, her mother died in childbirth. Anyway, Ginny and her brother were being raised by their father—"

"Michael Fallon, right?" John interjected.

"Correct." Nancy nodded, then went on, "He was a good dad. Brought the kids in for check-ups and shots, the usual. You could tell he adored those kids. They were happy with him, too. He never had any problems in town, and from what I gathered the few times I met them before this week, they were a happy party of three. Alex and Ginny were good kids. Polite, a little quiet, but dang smart."

"So Michael was a good dad for them?" John asked, swallowing.

"Definitely. At least, I thought so." Nancy's expression faltered a little, "Then this whole thing came up."

John raised his eyebrows, interested at once, "How's that?"

"No one has found Michael or Alex's bodies yet," Nancy said, "It's been a week, and they've been searching the house and all the land around it."

"Where did the Fallons live, anyway?" John asked.

"About ten miles north of town," Nancy explained, "It's this big old manor, really rural and hard to get to…It's been in Michael's family for years. He and Lydia moved in just after they got married. The house had been left to him in his parents' will, and they died about a year before Michael and Lydia were married. Anyway, they've been searching all week through the remains of the house—only the third floor and part of the second were burnt up—but they can't find anything. And the things Ginny says…" At this, she now looked a little distressed.

John frowned, "What's she saying?"

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, "She's having horrible nightmares—well, any kid would, but she hardly sleeps unless she's sedated, and she won't eat much or even talk. Not to mention she was pretty banged up from the fire—burned all over the place, she broke her arm when she jumped out the window. And when she does, she's…not normal."

She had jumped out of a window, on her own? That alone was pretty strange. "She just saw a pretty bad thing." John said, "I'd be a little screwed up, too."

"So would I," Nancy agreed, "But this is a step past abnormality and post-traumatic stress disorder."

"How's that?" John asked, now getting a weird vibe from this.

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, tapping her fingers idly on her desk, "She says there was someone in the house." Nancy explained, "Someone…bad."

"Such as?"

"She said she saw a woman," Nancy said, "A tall, scary looking woman…her words, not mine, by the way. She said this woman had dark, dark black eyes, and tried to hurt her."

John's eyes immediately widened to the size of dinner plates. Black eyes? A fire? Missing family? Goddammit, why hadn't he seen the possibilities before…

"Has anything else strange happened, before or after this fire?" John asked quickly.

"Well, yes." Nancy swallowed, "One of the firemen—he was a friend of my sister's—well, he went up to go and get Ginny and her brother, they slept on the third floor by themselves…Well, he went up to get Ginny, and they saw him at the window, holding her, about to come down, but then he just…vanished."

"Vanished?" John repeated, "Like…"

"Vanished." Nancy said firmly, "They found out after excavating the third floor fell through, but when they went through the rubble, trying to find him after they found Ginny around the side of the house…he was gone. Ben was just gone."

This was beginning to scream paranormal activity. John could not ignore this any longer, and as much as he was beginning to dislike the idea, he had to talk to this kid.

"Just gone?" John pressed, deciding to get details on the fireman first, "Like…"

"Gone." Nancy said. "They can't find his body, on top of everything else. Ben, Michael, and little Alex…they're all gone."

John cleared his throat a little. Three missing bodies. A severely injured little girl. A burned down house. John couldn't deny it. Something was wrong with this picture.

"Can I speak to Ginny?" he asked, "You know, get her side to all this…"

At this, Nancy was obviously uncomfortable, "She's already been spoken to." The nurse said slowly, "By detectives, psychiatrists…We're trying to keep her relatively isolated, sir. She really is just a little girl…"

"I understand that," John nodded agreeably, "But ma'am, if this is as serious as I'm beginning to think it is, I just need a word with her. It won't take long, and I won't press any subjects she won't go into, alright?"

Nancy looked hesitant, but after a long pause, she exhaled for a long sigh, and stood up, tugging at the tail of her scrubs, "Well, okay. A few minutes." She came around the long counter of the hospital's nurses' station, and began towards the elevator, "I guess it can't hurt—" At that, there was a loud, electronic beeping. Nancy glanced at her wrist, where a black wristwatch had been Velcro'd to her arm.

"Oh crap." She muttered, then she turned and glanced up apologetically at John, her long red hair swinging, "Look, I really don't mean for this to happen now, but I've got to go with a patient who's getting some shots…Can this wait or…"

"If you direct me to the room, I can find her myself." John said. This was much better. Asking the kid questions about ghouls could _not _be easy with this nurse hanging around…

Nancy hesitated again, then her watch beeped again. "Crap, well, alright. She's room 213, second floor, just on your right from the elevators. If she's sleeping, just wake her up gently. I'll be up in a few minutes."

John nodded, "Of course." And as Nancy ran off towards the front of the hospital again, where John had passed by the clinic, he hurried towards the elevator. He only had a few minutes to ask all the right questions. With any luck, this kid wasn't for real. Hunting down an arsonist was one thing. Hunting down a demonic arsonist was completely different.

* * *

_Well there's the official first chapter. I hope you guys like it. Review a little and let me know how I'm doing. It'll probably be awhile before the next chapter, but I'll try and post soon._


End file.
